No Money, Kings of Leon.

Every time I see you I think I make you hate me more. All I can do is ride this wave of self doubt and hatred. You're difficult. I want to talk to you about everything and more, but you look more like you want me to shut up.

"What's the most expensive thing you've ever come across?"

"Love."

"Care to explain? 

"It's an investment I can't afford to make"

"Oh."

You're taken, you're out of my league. You think I'm pathetic, you think I'm boring. 

I'm alone. That's my only problem. 

I don't understand my obsession with love. I think I've suffered rejection so many times I've began to crave something I don't have. It's like that word in that language about pain and sorrow for the loss of a relationship that never happened. 

Kill me already, I'm getting tired of this shit. I can't seem to get a goddamn thing right. All I can do is make mistakes. Go ahead and make one for me. 

God you're beautiful. 

Yes, I'm poor. Yes, I'm fucked up. Yes, I know you can't stand me. But I'm human. Or at least I think I am. 

What's the point of an existence where you have no control over yourself? Then again, who are you?

Yeah, I'm cocky. I'm painful. I'm ugly. I can deal with it. Maybe.

This need for familiarity. For contact. To have someone, regardless of who I am. 

Sleep used to be my best friend. It's my worst enemy today. Dreaming about someone is almost like allowing someone to control your life. I dream a lot. Every time I dream I feel this part of me missing, I'm waiting for the right person to show up. I'm afraid I'll be dead before that happens. 

All I need is a shoulder to cry on. I can feel the strain. The tension, I've had enough. I need someone to be there. I'm breaking and the only thing  holding me together is hope. And hope doesn't come easy these days. 

Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? 

Have you ever wanted to forget now warm the morning sun is? 

Have you ever wanted to forget how beautiful the evening breeze is? 

I want to. 

I have nobody to share it with. 

It feels like someone is choking me. 

"When was the last time you felt alive?"

"I don't remember."

"?"

"It's been a while."

How on earth do I get you to realise that everything you say about not liking me kills me inside. I think I talk compulsively because I need to hide what's going on inside. I want to let go already. I can't. 

I walked out of home last night. Spent hours on a bench on the road. It was pouring. I was freezing. I couldn't deal with what's going on inside me. 

Has someone ever saved your life? 

No?

That's funny. 

Why, you ask? 

You're keeping me alive.

God you're beautiful.